As the leaves turn golden and the first chill in the morning gives way to scorching Southern California afternoons, it seems we have slipped into the fall season, which I mostly like, except for one particular event that makes me cringe-the dreaded Halloween costume shopping.
Now, I take great delight in picking out baby’s costume (this year she is a puppy), but the big kids are another story all-together. First they beg and plead for me to drive them to the mega-land Halloween store which I’m pretty sure is the main clothing resource for serial killers and prostitutes. I seriously despise these places.
Generally, I make the kids stay one aisle behind me as I scope out the next, that way I can deter them from a particularly raunchy or gruesome stretch. People look at me like I’m nuts; “Kids, abort, abort…don’t go down this aisle. It’s The Girls Next Door meets The House Bunny.”
I know my son get’s an eyeful every time we go to these places, despite my stalking around like an over-protective mama bear. Can someone please tell me why Halloween has become a socially acceptable day to dress like a slut or better yet Freddy Krueger? ( And yes, I do remember dressing up as a sexy Red Riding Hood one year in college. I know the pot’s calling the kettle black here, but I’ve matured people!)
Faith is at the awkward age between little girl costumes and the dubious Jr’s section. Anything in Jr’s has big gaping pockets for the tween’s chest, and since most ten-year olds are still growing, I can only assume the boob pockets are to hold candy?
Two years ago she was little Bo Peep, which means mommy had to do some altering of the sexy sheep girl’s ensemble. First we bought big, so the skirt covered her bum, then we laced her up tight and made her wear a shirt underneath. We also had to do some creative pleating along the top and add some big bows to cover the gaps. She looked adorable once we were done, but the effort was hardly worth the fifty dollars they charge for this riff-raff.
Last year she dressed as an eighties girl and I breathed a sigh of relief. She looked like a cross between Cindy Lauper and Madonna, with a hot pink tutu and green streaked hair, but who was I to complain? At least she was modest.
Kyle on the hand dressed as a priest with black sunglasses. Was it irreverent? Possibly. This year he’s going to be a Mexican Bull Fighter. I know, right? It just gets better and better.
At least I get to dress up the baby in whatever I want. Next year I’m rolling out the princess gowns. Whoopee!!!!
